Self-Mutulation of the mind
by Magicath Wrenade
Summary: TRIGGER WARNING Self harm is an addiction in Sherlock's mind and when word gets out so does Sherlock's monsters.
1. Chapter 1

The jagged blade dragged across my pale wrist, the polished blade staining with the red that slowly spurts out of the slits. I drop the blade, covering my arm with my jacket pocket, letting the slices in my skin sting as they posses me with pain. I let them know about the smoking addiction, but not this addiction. I breathe in as my arm stings, my fingernails dig into the armchair as John comes in

"John" I nod,

"Sherlock" John says, lugging a bag of groceries through the door way "I was going to buy the free range eggs like you asked but they where all out so I just got the normal ones and there are no more tea bags left so you'll have to-" he turned around, squinting his eyes sharply, like a snake, something he always does when he's trying to observe "whats that on your sleeve?" I look down at my arm, the blood has seeped through the thick cotton of my shirt and jacket. Oh no.

"Experiment"

"what experiment?"

"how far you can put your hands in pigs blood before it curdles due to the new sense, child's play really, its 20 centimetres not including the length of the-"

"Sherlock its dripping down your hand, plus thats not the colour of pigs blood." Well observed. John puts down the groceries coming to look. Why is it doing this, I didn't cut that deep, it was just one of those times when I needed to replace the mental pain with physical pain. John grabs my sleeve and pulls it up receiving my bloody wrists. "What the bloody hell have you done this time Sherlock?" John sighed, although anger raised in his voice. John pressed a tissue against the cuts hard, making me almost squeal.

"Bored" First words that come to my mind. Bored? Now he must think I'm a psychopath.. not a highly functioning sociopath

"Bored? Bloody hell Sherlock do you think this is a joke! This is self-mutilation! You could kill yourself!" Maybe that was the point of all of this. "Here hold this" I put my hand to the tissue on my wrist, its wet to touch as the blood seeps through, coating my fingers in a red glove. John walked through to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic and bandages out the first aid cupboard. "This is going to sting" I hate it when John does this. Speaks to me like a child and that I don't know that antiseptic wipes on an open cut is going to sting. I roll my eyes. John pours a few droplets of antiseptic onto a tissue and without warning presses it into the cut. I let out a low shriek as it stabs through my blood. John then wraps a bandage carefully around the wound, tying it tightly in a neat knot. "Sorry" he looks down at his fingers which now have my blood as a gentle red glove "for yelling at you"

"Its okay, I suspect you're used to self-mutilation and self harm" I nod to a scar on the top of his wrist, judging by the colour it was administrated two- no maybe just three years ago and cut almost to the vain, attempt of suicide, or major depressive disorder. John jerks his sleeves down

"Bloody hell Sherlock! Can you please leave some parts of people's lives unspoken!" his voiced raised, like it did when I pointed out the fact that his ex girlfriend was clearly a future mass murderer. I press my hands together and think to myself. Engulfed in thoughts. It can be hard being this smart, life doesn't come easy when you have seen people with their limbs chopped up into cubes small enough to stew, actually I did see that once. I know 245 ways to commit suicide and I have attempted 13 of them, but they all went un-noticed. Just another 'ridicules Sherlock stunt'. I don't necessarily want to die. I just want to… escape. John storms out of the room into the bathroom, making a point to slam the door to prove his anger at me, he can be so petty sometimes.

I pull my sleeve carefully over the bandage just as Ms Hudson comes in with a teapot full of steaming hot tea

"Sherlock! The mess you've made!" she moans nodding to the blood stained arm chair, I simply ignore her and close my eyes, ignorance is bliss

"Don't mind that, he had a little accident earlier today" John walks back into the room, with blotchy eyes, he's clearly been crying, or very close to it "I'll clear it up later myself, but me and Sherlock need to go out first"

"Sherlock and I" I point out, his grammar is honestly appalling

"What!" John sighs

"You said Sherlock and me, its Sherlock and I, its basic grammar. Primary school"

"Said the guy who didn't know the earth revolved around the sun" John and Ms Hudson shared a chuckle. I roll my eyes [again]. What is the point of knowing pointless garbage that has no purpose! John throws my coat and scarf at me. "Come on" John says to his reflection in the mirror, sorting out the thin layers of his hair, clearly he's got his mind set on something again. I pull my coat on and button it slowly, just for the purpose of annoying John, then thread my scarf, John didn't give me my gloves so I have to get them myself. "Goodbye Ms. Hudson" John waved, strange, he never waves and rarely says goodbye to her, I bet he's going to talk to me about the self harm, its non of his business really but judging by the fact he keeps rubbing his temple as we walk and has a small tremor in his leg he's clearly concerned.

"Where're we going?" I ask as he speed walks down Baker's street and puts his hand out to haul a cab

"You'll see"


	2. Chapter 2

"Where to?" The cabby smiles at John, ear to ear. Her lips are stained scarlet and her cheeks are like russian doll's.

"34th street" says opening the door for himself and not for me, what a gentleman. The woman has clearly got last night's makeup on, as shown by the foundation smudged in random parts, her mascara is starting to disparate under her eyelids and with no wedding ring and a thread of fishnet hanging out of the glove box… a hooker. Haven't seen one of them in a while. I rub my temples as I open the door and lean in

"John this isn't a good idea" I whisper into his ear

"Sherlock! This is not the time" he grabs my forearm harshly and hauls me forward into the taxi. The cabby turns around and laughs at my compromising landing on John's knee

"Its okay, I don't judge!" she laughs again, a deep laugh, like she was high, although smelling the air, I think she is. "My Fiancee is bi". Her Fiancee. Where's the ring?

"Oh. We're not- I mean-" John tries to explain but she slams her heel on the gas before he can take another breath. John holds onto the windows, like that'll slow the car down, although he has always been phycosmatic.

"Congratulations on your engagement" I say as we swerve around a bend, slightly scraping a curb, the cabby ignores me "You two going to have a big fancy wedding? After all there's a lot of money in prostitution" the car pulls to a sudden stop, clearly not a good cabby, we're 5 blocks away from where we want to be. The jolting car makes my seatbelt strangle me to restrain my face from smacking her seat. And in those two seconds that it took for me to come to my senses I hear the unmistakable sound of a cocking gun. "Go ahead" I smile at her, its obviously not a real gun. I mean, no real gun looks like that, its a bebe gun.

"What the! Sherlock" John screams at me, his forehead creased into.. I don't know how many wrinkles, I have to say getting old really ages him. Her finger hovers over the trigger until finally she presses it. A bebe bullet smacking John in the forehead, forming a red bump on his face. I allow myself one quick chuckle.

"I think we shall be walking now" I nod at her, reaching into my pocket I pull out a two pound coin; its as far as she drove us really... I place it in her bony hands, must be a change for her to receive money in her hands for once. John rubs the spot where the bb gun hit him, a red swollen spot welling on his skin. "you couldn't not mention her night job so she could drive us five streets in peace?"

"Well you have been kind of moaning lately, I thought maybe you could get her business card.

"I'm not in the mood for jokes Sherlock." John says, storming off for the next few blocks and then stopping right in front of the war cemetery. John goes white pale, like he might faint or throw up at any second, he clears his throat, with a high pitch cough "In the war... there was this guy" Ms Hudson always did have her suspicions about John's sexuality, but this isn't the time to think about that "and we were best friends" not lovers "he was a lot like you, only less of an ignorant arsehole and more smart" I must not correct his grammar. I must not correct his grammar. "And one day.. we were washing in the damn and he- he" John pauses, like its physically impossible to get the words out "He had these marks all up his arms, like cigarette burns. Have you ever done that?" John's eyes are red raw, I nod my head relunctantly, I used to burn myself with cigaretts when I was a teenager, I was smarter than the bullies but eventually the bullies became me, their words carved into my skull and followed me around everywhere. I can see where this story was going. "In the trenches he had secretly lit cigarets and burnt his wrist with them, I ignored it, until there became cuts. He sliced across his arms with a pocket knife when everyone was asleep. And then one day." John cried, tears flow down his cheeks in abundances, there is no stopping it, I've never seen John cry like this "he got the gun and shot himself" John swallowed, letting out a little sob as he did "HE SHOT HIMSELF, SHERLOCK" John screams at me, hunching down on the grave, "and if you don't stop this.. I don't want to loose you" I don't know what to say, so all I say is

"I know"

"You know? Then why are you still doing it!" he says, gently rocking himself back and forth on the grave.

"John, I need you to calm down" I say calmly edging towards him, John nods, trying to stop the tears coming out "do you want to go home, Ms Hudson will make you tea?" John shakes his head.

"No first we're going to the doctors. You need to see someone"

"Really? What did your councillor do so right, realise you where a phycosmatic loner" I blurt out "John I'm sorry"

"Good because we're going" John says, hoisting himself upright, grabbing his phone and texting someone saved as "Juliana". His fingers tremble as he presses the keys and he has to be thankful for autocorrect this time in his life. "Taxi or walking?"

"Taxi" I say, the odds are that there is only 2 out of 200 taxi drivers who are hookers and hopefully we wont get the other hooker. Even though the odds are 1 in 95.


	3. Chapter 3

"So how are we feeling today" therapists annoy me so much, they try and understand whats going on in your mind through pointless and demeaning communication. John nods

"We're good.."

John's therapist smiles "Its lovely to see you smiling again John, you finally figured out your leg WAS phycosmatic. So how long has this been going on for?" she says nodding to me, then John and then me and then John

"what?"

"You know; you two-" she tries to hint that because we are both sat together, that we are in a relationship.

"WE ARE NOT GAY!" John snaps, I think I should be offended at the fact that John is so offended at the fact people interpret us as a couple, I think I look alright… do I? "Sorry. Its just I'm here because of Sherlock, this morning I found him-"

"Say no more" The councillor laughs, cutting John off before he could even finish his sentence. Like she knew exactly what was happening, unlikely. "Walking in on someone doing something like this does create some awkward tension between the two friends, with a pathological need to separate as thoughts progress but you two can get through this rough patch. So tell me, Sherlock.. is it?" I nod. "Sherlock, how often is it you feel the need to.. You know?" She thinks I was masturbating. Obviously. As far as the PhD goes, I think she might want to look into a refund

"Masterbate?" I raise my eyebrows, mimicking the situations. John's eyes glare at me. I know he hasn't caught on to his amazing therapist's mistake and to be honest I find it completely amusing. "I've never done so in my life, although once I did, but that hardly counts seeing as I was fourteen and drunk at the time. No what John is referring to is the fact that he caught me slicing my arms open with the landlady's razor blades, you might have caught on if you paid attention in medical school, straight D's.. how did you get this job, which requires all A's unless you… Oh brilliant. How did I not see this? 24 carrot gold ring, left finger, glasses even though there is clearly nothing wrong with your eyesight and a disturbingly straight manicured finger nail. You're the boss's wife. Thats why, you use him for a job because you where on the streets, based on your posture" she looks bewildered, which yet again only adds to my point "Oh and degrees only cost £100 on eBay if you're interested, I'm sure your lover will be able to afford it" I thread the scarf around my neck and walk out, leaving John and the therapist alone together.

John joins me in the corridor, a few minuets later "shall we have Chinese food for supper?" I ask, its almost six o'clock and I haven't eaten all day..

"Bloody hell!" John rubs his temples

"Can we have egg noodle?" he still hasn't answered

"No! I want pizza! Oh and by the way you have to stop doing that in formal situations"

"Doing what?" I ask, just to irritate him

"Deducing people to prove them wrong"

"well she was wrong she thought you walked in on me-"

"Wanking" John finishes my sentence with a laugh, a man with brittle hair and crooked teeth approaches us, he holds out his hand to introduce himself

"My name is Dr Dick Inbotton" he says in a London accent. Me and John laugh under our breaths but its hard to conceal it. Dick in Bottom. I know its childish but who has that kind of name? Except him, the boss, bad personality, having an affair… gay affair. "You upset my wife"

"Could've been worse.. I could have told her about your boyfriend" he looks confused

"Er.. May I ask you whom you are talking about"

"Oh the one sneaking out of the front door behind you" I nod to the 15- no 16 year old boy hobbling out of the door with a wallet in his back pocket "Oh just another person using you for money and just another person you use for sex. And you run a counselling service. You might want to get therapy from someone with a degree for your sex addiction because I suspect there's another one. Have a nice day" I nod as I walk towards the door but as I do I feel a hand on my shoulder "Can i help you" I ask turning around, brutal mistake seeing as his fist collided with my eye, mid blink. John runs up behind him and puts him in a headlock, Dr Dick Inbotton gasps for breath as I knee him in the balls with all my force, I guess he won't be needing the condoms in his front pocket tonight. He falls to the ground in an uncomfortable groan grabbing his crotch in an attempt to remove the pain.. pointless. As proved by Mycroft in our childhood, if I didn't get my way I would kick him in the balls, he would cry every time and our mother would yell at us for fighting and we would get sent to our room. "Can we go now?" I ask John and he nods, like the five seconds it takes to get from here to the door will take an hour.

"Sure"

"Shall we compromise?"

"On what"

"Indian food" I laugh, John rolls his eyes but eventually nod, to be honest I would have been completely fine with pizza I just wanted to compromise on something today. John holds his hands out for a taxi home.. does he really think thats a good idea… you know considering the serial killer in what his blog entitles "the study in pink" and the prostitute that drove us around 4 hours ago. But despite that he jumps in the taxi anyway and I follow.


	4. Chapter 4

I rub my fingers across the red slits as I drift to sleep, the smooth bumps soothing me as my eyes flutter. Am I asleep yet? The Indian food from dinner makes my stomach feel heavy and bloated, I close my eyes one last time. Hoping for at least an hour of sleep before John wakes me up with his dawn workout plan (why hasn't he given up yet its been a week).

Irene Adler stands before me in a white room, well i say room I have no idea where it ends, it seems like an endless room. She is wearing what she wore when I first met her, nothing. To her left is Molly Hooper, looking 9 years younger than she is now, dressed in a pink jumper which is too big for her and baggy jeans. What she was wearing when I first met her. And then to Irene's right is John, wearing the ugly grey sweater he wore when we first met… Moriarty's voice echoes around the room

"Choose one" he demands, his voice full of anger, like an angry irish dancer, his accent definitely is not very threatening

"Why" I ask, I am unable to deduce anything from this situation except for the fact that everyone who is here is wearing the outfit they wore when I first met them..

"Choose one to kill or I will kill them all"

"How're you going to do that?" I ask, knowing Moriarty he has something planned and I don't know what… All I can guess is he's going to get quite a bit of blood on the floor, Ms Hudson isn't going to be happy with him. He pulls out the silver blade that I used to cut myself with, so does everyone else.

"These three people are the only people who know about your self harm" Moriarty says. They all pull their jumper sleeves up, revealing pale, vain-y wrists.… well except Irene, she's already showing her wrists. "You hurt them all". They all in perfect synchronisation drag the blade across their wrist, blood dribbles down their hands, dropping more on the floor "You need to stop. Now"

"I can't"

"Oh please Sherlock, its a pain in the ass, if you kill yourself it will take all the fun out of ME killing you" he clicks his bony fingers and everyone pulls the blade across their throats, staining their jumpers and bare skin with dripping blood, I try and run towards them to stop the bleeding but I can't, its like my feet are stuck to the floor and I can't move any limbs. A nightmare clearly but there is no escape from it.

* * *

"Sherlock" John's hand rests on my shoulder, he's sat on the corner of my bed, his wool jumper rubs against my skin. I grab John's shoulder and hug him, but his workout for balance clearly isn't going to well as he looses his balance and falls onto my bed, just as Ms Hudson opens the door

"Oh. Sorry, am I interrupting?" she smiles putting down my morning cup of tea "I'll give you two some privacy"

"Ms Hudson how many times do I have to tell you? Sherlock and I are not gay!"

"I was going to say! That young lady in the living room would be extremely heart broken!" she sighs, pushing her hair back out of her eyes, well it was never in her eyes in the first place she just needed something to do to fill the silence, you see it all the time with future sociopaths, but Ms Hudson is too old to develop that now.

"What young lady?" John asks

"She says she's your girlfriend" Ms Hudson smiles "And that she slept over, I could here you two from downstairs, you might want to be a but quieter with your.." she lowers her voice to a dull whisper "sex". John stands up and runs down the stairs, not bothering to take his dorky sweatshirt off. Sat in my chair stark naked is a girl, around eighteen with long blonde hair down to her waist and pink lipstick spread across her face, a collection of love bites across her neck, she looks familiar, like someone I know. She stands up and walks towards John… then starts sucking his face…. Ms Hudson sits awkwardly "Would you like to borrow some of my clothes, you're about my height." she smiles.. the girl does not look up until John pushes her away

"I don't mean to be rude.. but who are you?" John asks wiping pink smudges and sliver from his face

"Juno" she smiles "Juno Maria Quartetta-"

"Quartetta?" I ask "What kind of a name is that?"

She doesn't answer "Adler. Juno Maria Quartetta Adler." she's Irene Adler's sister, which is why she's obviously is so comfortable sitting naked in a strangers house, although knowing her sister I doubt that we are strangers "I'm here for my sister's camera phone, she never got it back. And there were some compromising photos on there and-"

"Nothing I've not seen of her's before" I interrupt smiling, trying to throw her off guard "Might I suggest next time I see her she puts some clothes on, I know its not really her style but even some underwear would do, I say the same for you. Ms Hudson, she will take you up on that clothes offer" Ms Hudson nods and runs off to her room "Oh and I know why she wants the phone back. She told me that this camera phone was her life and she has an app called 'Private Blog'. I couldn't resist myself to read and turns out she has a real fetish.. huh? I suspect you two are close, you both love being naked in the presence of detectives." Ms Hudson hobbles in grasping her hip and holding a brown floral dress

"Damn hip! Here you go dear, its the most 'you' dress I had" Juno slips it over her head and smiles at Ms Hudson, I thought she would put up a fight but I guess not. I hear something click, the door flies open and Irene stands, wearing a long trench coat, all I can remember is the dream and I try and resist myself hugging her. A creak of pink slides across her neck, at first I think I'm imagining it, but I can't be, I've never hallucinated anything in my whole life, even when I'm on drugs. I tug the collar down a little and see a slit across her neck.

"Show me your wrists." I say, trying not to let it get to me, she seems to ignore me "SHOW ME YOUR WRISTS" I shout before tugging her sleeves up myself. Slit wrists and a slit throat, just like in the dream "John?" John is the same and I didn't even realise it, and Molly. I haven't seen Molly but I guess she is the same. I pinch my arms and feel nothing.

Another dream.


End file.
